The pain seemed to delay as Germany searched for his fallen friend. Germany hadn't even been watching Italy when he heard the sharp cry and the amber head falling out of his view. Now Germany hadn't the slightest clue of whether his friend was safe or in danger, injured or healthy, alive or dead, and he couldn't stand it. Germany had searched for hours on end, helped by a couple other nations who now stood off to the side, given up hope. Germany couldn't give up. He would die before accepting that his friend was gone for good. He wanted so badly to walk by and simply see the excited nation singing or cooking pasta off to the side, completely safe and uninjured, but the years of experience in war had taught Germany to expect the worst. As much as Germany wanted to make himself believe that Italy was alright, he was unable to convince himself in case his hopes were shot down. Germany grimaced at the unintended pun.
Germany, the country, had been overrun by the allies and was slowly becoming a piece of America, of all countries. This made Germany, the persona, prone to human weapons. He had taken three shots to the chest and could actually feel his life force force training out along with the blood…. But he had to find Italy. As badly as Germany was hurt, the uncomfortable feeling that squeezed a ball in his stomach told him Italy could be worse off.
Italy couldn't move. The ally's armies had gone in to take control of his country, not actually wanting to take Italy from him, but the citizens had rebelled. Italy felt every innocent or soldier dying as if it was another gunshot to his own body. He felt every unstoppable fire like it burnt his own chest, flames licking up his small body. Every cut down forest like a knife, stabbing and twisting through his flesh. Every destroyed building created a pinprick in his limbs, but when so many pins pricked Italy at once, it was almost like a body part falling asleep multiplied by a thousand. Everything going on in his country had taken a toll on his body, but the usually wimpy nation was able to ignore it all when the rest came. Italy himself had been shot in the back (he thought it was the spine) while making up chants to support Germany on the battlefield. The physical pain, was like nothing Italy had felt before. It was both more and less than what he experienced when something happened to his country. At first, the pain had sent Italy tumbling to the ground, sharp and strong. It bore into his mind and Italy was unable to accomplish any actual thought, there was only pain. All Italy could do was cry out as he fell face-first to the ground. Now, all Italy saw was the brown of the once green field's ground, his cheek and most of his face pressed into the wet mud. There was no doubt in Italy's mind that he would die, but this didn't worry him too much, just as long as he could see Germany first. Along with the bullet lodged in his back, Italy had fallen on something sharp. The pain was nearly as bad as that from the bullet, but it only lasted a moment before everything thankfully , unable to move so much as his fingers, all Italy could do was wait for his ally, and wait he would.
Germany had scoured the hundreds of bodies strenuously for nearly three hours, but he felt himself continuously growing weaker. Based on the excessive blood loss, and growing instability, Germany didn't think he could possibly have more than thirty minutes left. He gazed back to the side of the field, where England, America, Russia, Canada, and China stood, but still didn't glimpse that one face. Germany would have liked to see Prussia before he died, as his older brother was so important to him, but that seemed like it would never happen. He looked back down at the dozens of bodies littering the ground, still no sign of Italy…
Finally, fifteen minutes later, Germany spotted a familiar curl on the side of an amber head of hair. That was Italy. It had to be. The boy was lying face down and motionless. There was an ample puddle of blood that still grew underneath his stomach, and a visible hole cutting through the uniform over his spine, high in the very center of his back.
"Italy…" Germany fell to his knees besides the smaller, weaker country. How could anyone ever do this to Italy? His Italy? His cute, innocent, little Italy?
When Germany put his hands on Italy's sides to flip the other country over, the body was cold. Mindful of Italy's back wound, Germany settled the small body in his lap, examining the damage. The worst was a knife in Italy's stomach, drivin in with an angle that must have meant he had fallen on it. The short blade was buried to its hilt, making it impossible that the knife could have missed a vital organ. There was still blood gushing out of his wounds. Germany had learned the hard way that countries had more blood than men, but right now this was a good thing. If Italy's heart was still pumping blood out of his body, he was still alive.
"I-Italy…" Germany sighed again, brushing a bit of hair out of Italy's dirty face. The small nation's eyes opened extremely wide, although open eyes at all was considered wide for the innocent nation. He looked weary, but the same energetic nation as always. Somehow, Italy didn't show the slightest sign of pain despite his injuries. The country even smiled.
"Ve~, Germany! You came! I wasn't sure you would, or how longer I could wait… I'm glad you came, Germany. I wanted to say goodbye to before I left… But look! You're hurt too!" Germany looked at his bloody torso. The front of his green uniform was soaked through with red blood. It seemed
"Ja. I know. How long would you say you have, Italy?" The world was silent for a couple of moments as Italy closed his eyes. Surely it couldn't be now! Italy couldn't die! Not without saying goodbye, at least! Surely Italy wouldn't do that! Germany was about to shake the nation's shoulders when the eyes opened again. The moment of terror was quickly punctured by strong relief.
"Ten minutes… I'm sorry Germany, I don't think I can stay any longer than that."
"No, it's alright. I have the same."
"Oh… Germany?"
"Ja, Italy."
"Can we stay together until the end?"
"Of course we can…" Suddenly there was nothing else. All either country needed was right there with him, and because of this, the rest of the world had disappeared. Neither felt pain, or sadness, or scared. They had both come to terms with the end, and now all either felt was love. For a long time, both sat in silence, enjoying the mental warmness of the other's company. When Germany felt so weak that he could no longer sit up, Italy quickly noticed and commanded him to lie down, just so long as they stayed close.
Germany, making his promise, let his back fall against the soft grass. He pulled the small Italian body overtop of himself, and letting their heads rest close together. Most of Germany's strength was used to hold Italy tightly against him. They stayed in this position for about six minutes. Now there were only three left to live.
"Italy?"
"Ve~, Germany?" Italy sounded sleepy but Germany couldn't blame him. The blood flow had just begun slowing.
"There's something I'd like to tell you… Before it's too late."
"Germany?"
"Italy… I don't know if you remember when we first met, but you were like nothing I'd dealt with before. You wrote a song about how much my country scares you and then flirted with a couple of my women before singing it." Germany chuckled "I… I should have realized it then… You're something special, Italy, and I have always… I should have told you earlier, it would have been better, but now… Well I guess now is as good a time as any, right?"
"Germany, what do you want to tell me?"
"I want to tell you… Italy, I love." Italy only smiled, his eyes closed.
"I love you too, Germany. You remind me of someone I knew when I was a child. I never tried to hide it, but I suppose I never directly said it either. I'm sorry." Italy's voice got more quiet as he spoke. There wasn't very much time left.
"There's nothing to be sorry for. I didn't say anything either." There was a brief moment of silence as both nations reflected back on their lives.
Finally, Italy turned his head so that they were nose to nose.
"Germany, can you kiss me? Then we'll be able to go to sleep together!" Germany nodded, "But wrap my arms around you first, ve~? I want to hold you." Germany smiled and did as Italy asked.
"Good?"
"Ve~"
With the two nations now in a tight embrace, they gently melded their lips together. A moment later, Germany felt a large breath brush against his lips, then there was nothing. Germany knew that Italy was dead. He smiled through the lips of the nation on top of him then finally closed his eyes.
Germany was greeted by a bright light and smiling face.
It was only five minutes later that Romano and Prussia arrived to the scene, stepping out of their separate cars to be greeted by England, America, Russia, China, and Canada. Somehow, Prussia and Romano hadn't been greatly affected by this war, despite the near constant attacks on their brothers.
Canada, England, and America told Romano, while China and Russia told Prussia elsewhere, thinking it best to keep the two hotheads separate when they received the news. Then, once both nations had calmed down, the group led the two men towards the bodies, all of them unsure of what to expect.
What they saw, not one of them could ever forget. The two nations were entwined in a tight embrace, Italy's arms around Germany's shoulders, and Germany holding Italy tightly on top of himself, appearing protective of the weaker country. Their lips were locked in a gentle but true kiss, expressing nothing but love. It was as if the lovers were frozen in time, almost like a photograph. That was, if the countries hadn't been resting in, and covered with dark red blood.
Romano fell to his knees in front of the two bodies, cursing the world, and everything in it. Yelling apologies at Germany and Italy for his mistrust and hatred towards the bigger nation, and for thinking he could keep the two apart. He wondered how he could be Italy by himself, in a way that his brother would be proud of.
Prussia chuckled quietly, then muttered a kudos to his little brother for a job well done, not even attempting to stop the tears.
England smiled, happy that Italy and Germany could find peace together in the end. Then he turned away, feeling guilty, and a sense of overwhelming anger at his boss and this stupid war. Fortunately for England, flying mint bunny was there to comfort him.
Even Russia was missing his ever present creepy smile. Although there were no tears, Russia's face was the perfect image of sadness and regret.
China stared off into the distance, remembering the smile of the cute little Italian and the order of the larger German.
Canada sobbed his heart out somewhere off to the side, but nobody noticed him.
America cried gently for his lost friends, thinking of something he could do to honour them. America's boss and announced that Germany's name would be changed, although to what was unknown. America would fight to rename Germany heroland, because that's what he was. Italy and Germany were bother heros.
Italy and Germany, free from their bodies and their bonds, twirled up to the heavens in a never ending embraceful dance. They were finally united, and finally content.